


One Thing After Another (After Another)

by Syrum



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Fluff, Friendship, Good Loki, Loki Feels, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Loki's relationship is one of the best kept secrets in S.H.I.E.L.D's history, or so Steve thinks.  Loki knows better.</p>
<p>Individual interactions between Loki and the other Avengers as he figures out what Steve is to him and just how much he's willing to give up to be with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing After Another (After Another)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, to avoid confusion I just want to state that this is set over quite a long period of time (two years or so), so there's a few months usually between each section.
> 
> Also, I gave myself Wanda feels. Oops.

It had started in a purely innocent fashion; a fight, a fall, and a head injury that had Captain America on his back for almost a week and a half with severe vertigo. Loki had found him, near enough buried in rubble and, for a reason he had never been able to truly fathom, had spirited him away, bound his wounds and kept silent vigil over the man until he awoke, some two days later.

Loki’s accommodation had not been exactly palatial then, barely an attic if it could even be called that, but the rooms were warm and the bed at Steve’s back was comfortable. He had panicked, when he first awoke, pushing himself from the mattress and near enough falling to the floor, nausea and dizziness overtaking his vision. Loki had caught him, bundled him back into bed and chastised him for a good few minutes. Steve had merely laid there, unable to do much more, watching and listening and waiting, confusion setting in as Loki _fussed_ around him.

The week and a half had been pleasant enough, filled with quiet conversation about nothing in particular and everything possible. They did not talk ‘work’, neither one mentioned the Avengers at all after the first day, and on occasion Loki would read aloud to Steve from his armchair by the fire. Despite his near inability to move, Steve found that he was enjoying himself, enjoying the company, and when he was finally well enough to leave, Loki let him go without so much as a protest. Steve had given him a kiss on the cheek as he left, the action on reflex and he wondered at it as he walked away, face flaming. It hadn’t felt wrong, though, and he did not regret it.

Their next encounter was purely accidental; Steve happened to be out shopping, and Loki was snooping around a corporate building, unnoticed by any save the Captain. He didn’t ask Loki what he was doing there, didn’t want to know really, not unless it affected the Earth as a whole or the Avengers. Loki had grabbed him as soon as Steve made his presence known, hauling him into an alleyway and kissing him senseless before forcing a pen drive into his hand and vanishing with a smirk.

The data on that drive had revealed three Hydra bases and saved over a thousand lives. Steve didn’t bother telling the others where he had found it.

The third encounter was rather more dramatic; Loki had taken over a school, children and teachers held hostage inside while he goaded the Avengers to attack him. They did, of course, and he fought back for a time before growing weary of their game and vanishing.

Hawkeye was the first to infiltrate the school. He found the children playing with magical bubbles that did not pop when poked and prodded, laughing happily while their teachers looked on, confused but unharmed. The team did not realise Steve was missing for almost an hour.

Loki’s favourite game, by far, was when the good Captain decided he wanted to continue whatever their confrontation had been about prior to his spiriting him away, though with rather less clothes and rather more kissing. Or, when they ended up role playing, with Loki as the evil villain and Steve as the poor, defenceless victim. How Steve always ended up on top in those scenarios Loki did not know, and he certainly did not mind in the least.

They had to be careful, of course. Neither S.H.I.E.L.D nor the other Avengers would take kindly to their illustrious leader not just sleeping with, but actively _courting_ a known supervillain. Likewise, Loki’s contacts would not appreciate finding out that he was bedding none other than Captain America, though he was certain some of the backlash from that would be out of pure jealousy, the Captain truly was quite the catch. Bite marks and scratches were kept to a minimum and restricted to areas hidden by clothing, and while Steve _had_ returned home with the occasional hickey no one had said anything yet, which he assumed meant no one had noticed.

The first time it went wrong, Loki ended up face to face with Tony Stark. He had _meant_ to take Steve of course, and the idiot Stark had gotten in the way. Loki was, understandably, fuming.

“Hey, nice place you got here.” Stark glanced around the room, looking decidedly less concerned than he perhaps should be and sounding rather less honest than he might have done. Loki scowled and crossed his arms, glaring at the smaller man.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand, Stark.” He growled, standing to his full height, a menacing figure certainly but Stark seemed mostly bored.

“Because Steve would hate you if you did.” Loki stopped at that, eyes widening as his brows knitted together in confusion. “Listen pal, sorry to be a cockblock and all, but we need Cap walking straight for a few days, alright? Big mission, life or death, you know the drill. So if you could ust _not_ teleport him away for a bit, a week tops, that would be great.”

“And give me one good reason why I should agree to your terms.” He threw Stark his best sneer, and still the man seemed utterly unperturbed, interested more in what was on the mantle behind Loki’s head than in Loki himself.

“Because you don’t want your boyfriend to end up dead? That’s a pretty good reason.” Loki really could not fault his logic, though his agreement was still only given grudgingly.

“Fine.” Loki exhaled through his nose, frustration evident. “Be gone, mortal.” With a flick of his wrist, he sent Stark back to where he had pulled him from, armour and all.

He had managed to wait the requested week, though it was not easy, and when he was finally able to get Steve on his own for a few hours, he made absolutely certain that the Captain would be not walking straight for a while. Steve had no complaints.

* * *

The next of the Avengers to grace his doorstep was the Spider. She let herself in, entirely undetected, and Loki wondered if perhaps he was growing too lax, doubling his magical defences even as she stood before him, arms crossed and scowling.

“To what to I owe this pleasure?” Rising from his armchair, _Pride and Prejudice_ forgotten upon the side table, Loki sneered down at the much shorter woman. She did not seem impressed.

“I’m here to give you a warning.” The redhead stepped forward, and if she felt any fear at being so close to an immeasurably powerful being, she did not show it. “If you hurt Steve, in _any_ way, I will remove your testacles and feed them to you. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly.” Loki ground out, noticing how her eyes flicked from his face to the space just behind his head and back again.

“Good. He likes Italian food, by the way.” With little flourish, she turned and left, Loki remaining by his hearth with his mouth hanging slightly open, not entirely certain as to what had just transpired.

There was a lovely little restaurant set slightly back from the Arno river in Italy. Steve had stared out at the view as they ate, mesmerised by the beauty of it all. The food was delicious, the wine a perfect contrast, and as they rolled together in Loki’s bed that night, Loki wondered if perhaps this was what the Midgardians referred to as ‘making love’.

* * *

Months passed without incident, until Loki found himself trapped in a small, lead-lined and magically sealed room with Thor, Doom’s cackling still audible from somewhere outside. Their efforts to escape proved futile, neither Loki’s magic nor Mjolnir’s might enough to break down the walls of their sealed cage.

“So, brother.” Thor started when he finally accepted that they were trapped at least for the moment, both brothers sitting opposite each other in the small space, backs against the sides of the cube. “How have things been? I have scarce seen you of late, I trust you are well?”

“As well as can be expected.” Loki replied with a resigned sigh, not relishing the thought of conversing with his brother but not fancying his chances in such a small space were they to argue either.

“You are being safe, are you not?” There was something in Thor’s expression, and in his phrasing, something that Loki did not like, an amused curiosity that did not fit the Asgardian prince.

“I am keeping out of trouble, yes, as well you know.” Keeping his voice low and as unobtrusive as possible, Loki’s mind whirred, trying to fathom just what Thor was trying to achieve.

“That is not what I had meant.”

“Then pray tell what are you getting at?” Loki’s eyes narrowed and he shifted slightly, bringing his knees up and clasping his hands around them.

“Are you...being _safe_? In the, ah...in the bedroom.” The noise that escaped from Loki’s throat was neither intend nor dignified, and to his horror he felt himself flush.

“I am not having this conversation with you!” He finally snapped, and a surge of frustrated anger passed through him at the almost hurt look Thor threw him.

“But the Captain-”

“ _No!_ ”

He did not bother extending his magic to pull Steve to him that night, his foul mood ruining whatever plans he might otherwise have had for his lover, but Steve came anyway. It was late when he arrived, letting himself in and curling into bed with Loki, pulling him close and cuddling him until he fell asleep, not questioning Loki’s behaviour or his mood. Steve certainly did not need to know that his oaf of a brother had tried to have ‘the talk’ with him.

* * *

“Why are you here?” Loki was getting used to these sudden, strange arrivals of those who should have been his enemies, though he had not expected to find the Hawk hiding upon his roof at three in the morning. He shivered slightly in the mid-winter chill, snow crunching against his bare toes, wishing to be back inside, curled up in his warm bed and pressed against Steve who slumbered on.

“Because one of my friends is dating my arch-nemesis.” Clint shrugged, though Loki could see the cold was affecting him just as much.

“I am your arch-nemesis?” He wasn’t certain entirely what he should feel at that. Amusement, mostly, and from the look on Clint’s face the archer was thinking much the same thing.

“Well yeah, everyone has to have one.” Clint grinned, but the expression did not remain for long, settling into a calm neutrality that Loki knew had to have been schooled by years of practice. It wasn’t as good as the Spider, but it was good.

“And that is why you have appeared on my roof, in the middle of the night, wearing little more than a training vest and tights?” Loki let his gaze settle firmly on the man before him, obviously critical and yet with none of the overtly sexual undertones that would have been there not all that long ago.

“They’re _leather_. But...yeah, pretty much.” He wasn’t certain why the fabric made a difference; leather was the chosen material for most functional wear on Asgard, but it clearly did to the archer and so he did not question it. Perhaps he would ask Steve later, he thought, as another cold gust of wind had him shivering again.

“Your logic is akin to madness, I hope you realise.” Pressing finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, Loki could feel a headache coming on and his fingers were going numb. “Speak, then. It is cold and I wish for my bed.”

“I need to ask a favour.”

“You wish a boon of me? And what makes you think I would give it?” Loki’s expression shifted into one of surprise, staring incredulously at the archer, noting for the first time that while he was armed, the bow was slung far enough back that he would lose precious seconds trying to access it. So he didn’t see Loki as a threat any more, either? That thought irritated him more than it perhaps should have.

“I think you owe me one, after the whole mind control thing.”

“I have to say, you seem to be taking it better than I thought you might, given your apparent thirst for vengeance after the event.”

“Yeah well, you did save my life, what, six times since then? That counts for something.”

“Seven.” Loki corrected, remaining deadpan.

“Whatever. I still don’t like you, but I’ll let it slide.” He was staring out at the rooftops around them, gaze flickering over the snow-lined buildings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The covering of white and the softly falling flakes around him dulled Clint’s senses, putting him on edge. He knew that the biggest threat to his continuing existence was standing not five feet away, and yet somehow over the past year the original fear and distrust that had been melded to his very bones had given way to a grudging acceptance and an almost trust.

He did not know what the threat was that tickled the back of his neck, the eyes he could feel wherever he went, but he knew it was not Loki. And somehow, he knew that when he finally found whatever wished them ill, Loki would be right there at their side, fighting the good fight.

“So what is this boon that you request?” Loki’s impatient tone cut through Clint’s musings, and he started for a moment, before falling back into the relaxed pose he had adopted.

“I need you to keep Cap busy and away from base for the next few days, think you can do that?” Well, that certainly had not been what Loki had expected, one brow arching elegantly in amused surprise, the expression dampened somewhat by the white flakes of snow gathering on his hair and eyelashes.

“I do not see it being a problem, might I ask for what purpose?”

“No, you can’t, he’ll probably tell you when it’s all over.” Which meant that in all likelihood it was something Loki would approve of and Steve certainly would not. It did not quell his curiosity, but he could wait.

“Fine, I will see about detaining him for a while. Will three days suffice?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect actually.” Clint left without looking back, and Loki had the distinct impression that the archer had started to warm to him a little. Not much, but a little. He crawled back into bed with a happy sigh, curling around Steve and making the other man jump slightly as cold hands and colder feet clung onto him, though he soon settled again.

Steve had not tried to leave the following morning, after consuming half the food in the flat for breakfast, which was unusual for the Captain though Loki did not question it. It made the job of keeping him there that much easier if he was doing it of his own accord, though Loki did manage to coerce him back into bed after their meal without too much effort.

* * *

“Oh that is cute, you look so sweet together.” The lithe speedster had nipped past Loki before he could stop the man, Quicksilver snatching the framed photograph off the mantelpiece and zipping back to show his sister.

“How precious!” The Scarlet Witch had cooed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Steve with his arms around Loki, grinning broadly. Loki had eyes only for Steve and was not looking at the camera at all, soft smile gracing his lips. Paris, one of Loki’s more lavish treats for his Captain, and Steve had absolutely loved it. “I would like a copy of this, it would be perfect for the album.”

“They are not ‘out’ yet though.” Pietro hissed, taking the photo from his sister when she handed it back to him. “The others might see.”

“Ah, you do have a point.” Wanda nodded, looking somewhat disappointed. “Well, perhaps when you are, I can take a copy?” Loki simply stood there, lips pursed, watching the exchange between the two. How they had gotten into his house he had no idea, but they had been waiting for him when he returned home, and had not left yet.

“Can I ask,” He sounded far calmer than he felt, and as twin sets of eyes landed on him Loki felt himself bristle. “What you are both doing in my house, disturbing my peace?”

“Yes, sorry, there was a point to this.” At least she looked somewhat apologetic, he thought, glowering first at Wanda, then Pietro. “We found a useful piece of information.”

“Very useful.” Pietro added, nodding sagely.

“And thought you might like to hear it.”

“For a price.”

“I tire of this, what information and what price?” Loki sighed, depositing himself in his armchair. If he was going to have to entertain the twins, he might as well do so in comfort.

“We happen to know what the good Captain wants most in the world.”

“And the price would be that, in return, you assist Wanda in learning to control her magic.” They wore matching grins, which might have been creepy enough on children, but on two adults were some measure worse.

He had agreed, after some thought and a lot of grousing. As it turned out, Wanda was an exceptionally good student, though her abilities were limited to energy manipulation which was somewhat disappointing for both she and Loki, though he would not admit such a thing. She needed only a handful of lessons until she was happy with the increased level of control, thanking Loki with an almost sisterly kiss on the cheek, a hug he pretended not to enjoy, and the information he wanted.

It turned out what Steve Rogers wanted most in the world was entirely impossible; even Loki could not bring the dead back to life, and it pulled at Loki’s heart knowing that he would never be able to make the man he adored as happy as he wished to. The file the twins had managed to procure for him, though, was useful in its own way, and Loki filed it safely away for future use should he need it.

* * *

“What is he to you?” Tired from the fight, from too much magic stretched too many different ways protecting too many different people, Loki hadn’t seen the attack coming. Strong fingers wrapped around his neck, tossing him back against the wall and holding him there, squeezing enough that to draw breath was impossible.

The man who held him in place was tall, overgrown brown hair falling over distrustful grey-blue eyes, and the arm that had him pinned was all sleek lines and silver joints, metal from shoulder to fingertip. He squeezed just a little harder and Loki’s eyes widened, his grip on his magic tenuous at that moment, and not enough to help him free himself. Another few minutes, perhaps, but he wasn’t certain he had even that.

Without warning the hand was gone, his attacker stepping back, looking conflicted. The face was unfamiliar, but a name lingered upon Loki’s lips, poised at the tip of his tongue as he drew in ragged breaths and fought to regain his composure. Their eyes were locked together, neither one willing to look away, knowing that the first one who did would lose. As to what they would lose, it wasn’t clear to Loki, though he knew the stakes were high and he was painfully aware of the possibility he might lose his life. One wrong move, that was all it would take, but a stalemate had been reached and he knew he needed to take a calculated risk.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Loki finally gasped out, and the man jerked back as though shot. “You’re Bucky, are you not?” The man did not respond for the longest time, staring at him, his demeanor unchanged but his _expression_ \- Loki did not need to receive an answer, it was written clear as day on the man’s face. Eventually, after what felt like an age, Bucky nodded and it was more of a jerk of the head than the fluid motion he might have expected from the swift and deadly assassin.

“He told you.” It wasn’t a question, but Loki offered his own answering nod anyway, stepping cautiously forwards with his hands out in front of him, palms up and open, looking as unthreatening as possible for a man who was used to knives and guns, keeping what remained of his magic well hidden.

“He has not stopped searching for you. He misses you, and I will not pretend that I have not felt jealousy on the nights where his thoughts turn to you and I go unnoticed for a time.”

“Jealous of- me?” He was backing up, moving away at the same pace Loki was advancing, keeping the distance between them. Loki stopped, knowing that to continue would be to cut their time together short and if he could give Steve this, this one _thing_ that he wanted, then he would and damn the consequences to Hel.

“Does it seem so strange? What you had, your friendship, was something so wonderful and special to him that he pines for you over seventy years later.” He did not bother to mention that most of those seventy years Steve was trapped within the ice, unthinking and unfeeling, and he hoped Bucky would not make the connection either. “I cannot hope to compete with that, and the knowing of it destroys me.”

“I am...not a threat.” Bucky’s voice was softer, more human somehow, and Loki wondered whether this perhaps was the man Steve had known bleeding through.

“Good, neither am I.”

“You love him.” It was Loki’s turn to jerk back, staring incredulously at the other man because no, love was for sentimental fools and what he and Steve had was so different to that, unique in its own way. The words died on his lips, though, as he realised his own lie, and yet the word ‘love’ felt wholly inadequate to describe the feelings that surged through his chest whenever he saw Steve, the need and want that was deeper than simple lust as they came together, the bone-deep ache whenever they had to be apart for more than a few days at a time.

Yes, it was love. He was so in love with Steve Rogers that it hurt, and Bucky was gone before he could respond, having gotten his answer.

Loki did not see Steve that night, or the night after. The cleanup of the battle had taken longer than expected and the death toll had been high. Steve’s mind was on the victims of the disaster, Loki’s on his own warring conflict and how he might bring Bucky back to Steve and see that bright smile once more. He truly loved that smile.

* * *

“You should probably get that seen to.” An arm at his elbow, and Loki jerked away as though burned, turning to stare in shock at the man who had managed, without trying, to sneak up on him.

“I am quite well, Doctor. Please do not fret on my behalf.” Loki reached up to take the can of chopped tomatoes from the top shelf, apparently not suppressing his wince as well as he thought he had if the disbelieving look from Banner was anything to go by.

“Meet me outside when you’re done here, I’d like to speak with you if you don’t mind? It won’t take long.” The smile was kind but there was something in Banner’s eyes, something that piqued Loki’s curiosity. He should just say no, or simply not turn up, but this was the man who had taken Loki down pretty much single handedly, admittedly not in his present form, and Loki was curious. He nodded his consent, waiting for Banner to leave before continuing the slow process of his weekly shop, the jagged gash from elbow to wrist atop his arm making it more difficult than it needed to be.

It took almost an hour for Loki to complete his shopping and pay for it, throwing the cashier a smile before stepping out into the afternoon sun. Summer was well on its way and the temperature was a little high for Loki’s tastes, but it certainly beat the miserable weather they had endured almost all spring. He carried all of his groceries in one hand, obviously favouring his right arm, and merely raised an eyebrow in question when Doctor Banner took half of the bags from him.

“I’ve only got the one bag, you’re loaded down with them. This is just how we do things here on Earth.” Bruce shrugged, letting Loki set the pace. He could not fault the man’s logic, however different it might be to Asgardian practices, and chose not to mention Steve’s continued insistence on carrying everything he could whenever they stepped out together.

“It is not necessary, but I thank you nonetheless.” Loki replied amicably, heading for home and allowing Banner to follow him, walking only a half pace behind. “You said you wished to talk?”

“I do, but preferably somewhere a bit less crowded than here if you don’t mind.” Turning his head slightly, Loki shot him another curious look. “You know how it is.” Ah, so it was something S.H.I.E.L.D related then. However small the organisation might have become after the events of the past couple of years, it was growing, and Loki could understand their need for secrecy.

“Indeed.” They walked in silence for the rest of the way, climbing the four flights of stairs to reach Loki’s rooms, and if Banner expected anything different - more extravagant, perhaps - then he did not mention it. Didn’t say much at all, actually, until Loki poured them both tea and they sat before the fireplace together in an amicable silence. It should have felt strange, and yet somehow it didn’t. Their last fight together had been brutal, and Loki had the Hulk to thank for his continuing existence, a fact that both he and Banner were well aware of. That strange sense of camaraderie had, it seemed, bled over into their lives outside of the too-regular battles, and Loki found that he did not mind in the slightest.

“Will you let me look at that?” The poorly bandaged wound was visible, white gauze poking from beneath loose sleeves. It ached, it wasn’t healing, and Loki partly wondered if some terrible magics had been implanted into the jagged slash to stop it from closing. If so, there was little Banner could do, but it would not hurt to let him at least look. It would, at least, ensure that he would not continue to bother Loki about it.

“If you insist.” He made a show of sighing in annoyance, but Bruce remained unphased, standing from his chair to retrieve the bag he had left by the door. With no small measure of amusement, Loki realised that it contained a variety of first aid supplies and very little else.

“I figured you probably wouldn’t have anything I could use.” Bruce commented, pulling a pack of absorbent cotton pads from the bag and a bottle of some clear liquid Loki did not recognise. “Now, this is going to hurt, try not to blast me through the wall alright? The other guy’s been pretty quiet the past few days, I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I shall endeavour to remain in control, so that you might as well.” Loki replied, rolling his sleeve up further as Banner unwrapped the old bandages from around his arm, letting them fall to the floor. He removed the cap on the bottle, the strong smell of medicinal alcohol assaulting Loki’s nostrils unpleasantly, and doused one of the pads with it before pressing it to the wound.

To say that it hurt would have been an understatement. It burned, far worse than the cursed blade that had caused the injury to begin with, and Loki could only grit his teeth to stop the pained howl from escaping his throat. His eyes slammed shut and right hand clenched around the armrest of his chair hard enough to crack the wood.

“Okay, that looks cleaner, I’m going to wrap it for you and hopefully it’ll start to heal soon.” Loki wasn’t really listening, breathing short and sharp but the pain was less and when he opened his eyes again Banner was just finishing wrapping the clean gauze around his wrist before tying it off. He flexed his fingers, finding to his surprise the pain had eased somewhat.

“Thank you, Doctor Banner.”

“Please, just Bruce is fine.” Taking his seat once more, Bruce picked up his lukewarm teacup and sipped at it. “Just don’t let it get to that stage again, alright? It was on the verge of going septic.”

“I am not used to having to dress my wounds, they are normally too quick to heal for it to be necessary. I am not certain why this one has not.”

“Thor mentioned something about dark elves and magic. It didn’t mean much to me, but he seemed pretty upset about it.” Ah, well that explained it. Loki had not recognised the type of blade that had cut him, and it had been a Midgardian wielding it, but if the elves of Svartalfheim were involved then it was likely it had been soaked in poison.

They spoke of work for a while, of the looming threat of the new group that had surfaced and compared theories on what their intentions might be. Then, an idle comment from Loki switched the conversation over to Banner’s own work, his tests and theories and the science that Loki could not quite understand but so wanted to. He could see the way the man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, a passion that Loki had not felt himself in too many years, the excitement of something new and wonderful and not quite fully formed.

It wasn’t until Bruce finally left, long after dark and promising to return to check on how Loki’s arm was healing, that he realised - they had not mentioned Steve, not even once.

* * *

“I had a feeling I would be seeing you at some point.” Loki scowled across at the man who had settled across the table from him, steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Sam just grinned and took a sip, burning his tongue on the hot drink and giving Loki some small measure of satisfaction. “I’m in a reasonably good mood today, so I shall entertain whatever query you came here for.”

“Lucky me.” Sam wasn’t paying him too much attention really, staring out of the window to the busy street. The cafe was quaint, cute, and the pastries were rather spectacular. Loki preferred the smaller places, less crowded and often with a superior quality of coffee than the large, impersonal chains.

“I am fairly certain that you did not come here to sup coffee with me.” Though, he thought, the company was not entirely unwanted - he sat alone in that coffee shop entirely too often, a change was nice every so often.

“You don’t know that for sure though.” No, Sam was right, he didn’t. But he suspected, and a year or two hence he would not have dreamed he would find himself sitting across from an Avenger, chatting amicably. Still, the past few encounters had forced Loki to realise that, actually, he did not really know these people at all.

“Then did you?”

“Yes and no.”

“That’s hardly an answer.” Loki scoffed, knowing full well that his own answer would likely not have been all that different. Deliberately obvious subterfuge and vague responses, designed to keep the interest of the other party, particularly useful against those who grow bored easily. Such as Thor and apparently, much to his own annoyance, Loki himself.

“Yes, I did come here to drink coffee, specifically with you. No, that’s not the only reason why I’m here.”

“I am honoured, it seems.” The smirk he shot at the other man was more of a smile, though he would never have admitted it aloud. “So what is your second purpose, if I might ask?”

“Did you know Steve’s birthday’s next month?” Loki stiffened in his seat, before relaxing back into his usual calm demeanor.

“No, I was not aware.” It had not seemed like five minutes since the Captain’s last birthday, and that realisation frightened Loki more than he cared to admit.

“Tony wants to get him a pop-out cake.”

“Sorry, a what?”

“Yeah, I told him it was a terrible idea and you’d never agree to it.” A passing waitress purposefully caught Sam’s eye, he flashed her a grin and she all but scurried off.

“You would have to tell me what I’m supposed to be agreeing or not agreeing to first, as I have no idea what you are blathering about.” His mug empty, Loki considered ordering a second, knowing that in doing so he would be prolonging his encounter with the Falcon. Uncertainty filtered through his mind and he remained seated for the moment, hands clasped around the now-cool porcelain.

“A pop-out cake, the kind that strippers normally jump out of?” At Loki’s slightly incredulous look, Sam laughed. “Right, I guess you don’t have those on Asgard.”

“I am not a ‘stripper’, and cakes on Asgard are designed for eating not for-” He waved his hand vaguely. “Jumping out of.”

“See? Terrible idea. It came from Stark so, you know, it was never going to be a particularly _good_ idea. I do think you’d make a good present though.”

“You wish to gift me to the Captain? Tell me, should I be clothed or naked when you tie me with ribbon?” Loki smirked, grinned even, and revelled in the way Sam’s eyes bugged out of his head and he choked on his next breath.

“No, _no!_ That’s not-” Sam groaned and looked uncomfortable. “I did not need that mental image. Thanks, man.”

“You are welcome.” The grin wasn’t fading, and Loki relaxed further in his seat, loving how Wilson was refusing now to meet his eyes.

“That wasn’t what I meant anyway. Don’t you think you’ve done enough sneaking around? You’ve been with Steve, what, almost a year now.”

“It will be two years in a month and a half.” Sam’s eyes practically popped out of his head at that; he knew Steve well enough that he hadn’t missed the changes in his behaviour - less frequent nightmares, an extra spring in his step and the soft smile he wore whenever lost in thought. They were the signs of a man in love, anyone could see that. Sam just wanted to keep him that way. Still, two years? To think that Steve had been sneaking around for that long, it almost made him feel guilty, knowing that the Captain had thought such measures necessary.

“Dude, most people are thinking about getting _married_ by that point, not hiding away in dark corners like it’s some terrible secret. You’ve already pretty much quit being a supervillain, so why not go the whole way.”

“You do not know that.” Loki scowled, but there was no malice there, just a vague irritation under his skin on knowing that the man before him could see past the walls he had so meticulously built. Still, if he was honest with himself - which Loki so rarely was - he had known for a while now that those walls were crumbling. Bit by bit, Steve was dismantling them, breaking them down to reveal secrets that had been locked away for too long, too many years.

“You helped us take down Doom. You fought a _dragon_ to keep Steve safe. Hell, you’ve saved every one of our lives at least once in the last year.”

“Twice, and that was not a dragon. Dragons are larger.” Loki added, helpfully.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is that you’re practically an Avenger already, might as well make it official.”  
“I do not know how to be an Avenger.” The reply was quiet, almost fearful if Sam was listening well enough and knew what Loki kept locked away. Loki was not so weak as to allow another to see that just yet, though, and his back remained straight and expression set.

“You’ll learn, man.” Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the other man. “I did.”

“And what do I get out of this...arrangement?”

“Twenty-four seven access to the man of your dreams, immediate enrollment into the S.H.I.E.L.D pension plan and all the old movies you could ever want to watch.”

“I shall consider it.”

“That’s all I ask. But seriously though, try to talk Steve into watching something other than old black and white flicks? Pietro’s threatening to bail out on movie nights whenever it’s Steve’s pick, and Clint stopped turning up a month ago.”

“He likes them, then?”

“Understatement central. Yeah, ‘obsession’ might be the word. Pretty sure he likes them almost as much as he likes you.” Well, Loki thought, that at least gave him an idea on what Steve might like for his birthday. A present that Steve would love and the chance to irritate every other Avenger in the process? Yes, he found he liked that idea quite a lot.

* * *

When Fury finally paid him a visit, it was with none of the theatrics that Loki might have expected. He did not come armed, nor with a battalion of S.H.I.E.L.D agents at his heels, and somehow that was more unnerving than if he had arrived looking for a fight. Not that Loki would have given him one, but perhaps that had been the point of it? Fury had simply turned up on his doorstep, his presence made known by a sharp rap of knuckles against his front door, and pushed a large manilla envelope into his hands.

“Don’t disappoint him.” Fury had turned, then, and left, leaving Loki standing in his doorway staring after the man in confusion long after his back had vanished down the stairwell.

The envelope contained a file, in which there were several very detailed documents about him, his behaviour, a psychiatric evaluation and finally a proposal for Loki to be considered for acceptance into the Avengers Initiative. He stared at it for a good long while, reading it over and over, concerned and confused and unsure how he should feel about the whole thing, two words drawing his attention over and over.

‘Status: Accepted’

How was he supposed to react? Loki had no idea, and he was certain that had been Fury’s plan all along. Damn him, Loki thought. Damn him, and damn Steve for not being there to talk his confusion through with. But then, that had been the point as well, hadn’t it?

Steve’s birthday couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

“I told you, it’s no big deal, you didn’t have to do anything for me.” Steve’s voice carried through to the penthouse suite where Loki waited, alone, heart thumping a little too loud within his chest. He was nervous, and he wasn’t certain as to why exactly.

“It’s your birthday, Spangles, that’s a pretty big deal.” Stark’s laughter followed, louder than the Captain, and Loki started to wonder if this was perhaps not one of his better ideas. “Not as big a deal as, say, _my_ birthday, but close enough.”

“Plus, this is probably the best present I’ve ever got for you.” Sam’s voice joined the other two, and somehow that helped the nerves he was most certainly not feeling. This had been the Falcon’s idea, after all, even if Loki had adopted it as his own not too long after Sam had originally vocalised it.

“Hey, totally my idea! You don’t get all the credit.”

“Dude, who did the legwork?”

“ _I_ did all the paperwork, you got to go have coffee.”

“Pretty sure Pepper did the paperwork, but it _was_ damn good coffee.”

“Should we get him to close his eyes?” Clint, this time, and really just how many of them were there?

“What are you, twelve?” The familiar Sokovian lilt, and apparently Pietro was joining them as well, which meant in all likelihood so was Wanda.

The chatter died down when they rounded the corner, Steve stopping dead in his tracks and Pietro almost colliding with the Captain’s broad back. Loki stood at the large floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city, his back to the arriving group and hands clasped loosely behind him. His heart hammered against his ribcage, and when the silence grew to be too much, he turned just enough to see Steve, wide-eyed and lips parted in a shock that was taking _too long_ to clear.

“Did we make the wrong call?” Clint muttered under his breath, just loud enough in the silence for it to travel.

“No, shush.” Natasha elbowed him in the ribs, earning a grunt from the archer. The small scuffle seemed to break whatever trance had held Steve in place and he swallowed before striding forward, covering the length of the room in no time at all.

“You’re here.” Steve kept his voice low, eyes brimming with hope as they locked on to Loki’s. He could feel the fingers that gently grasped his elbow trembling slightly and let himself be turned to face the Captain fully. “I didn’t think, I mean...how?”

“You have a very good set of friends there, Captain.” The hum of his words was barely loud enough to reach the gathered group, who had still not moved from the doorway. “You would do well to keep them.” Steve turned, then, to look at the others. Tony and Sam’s matching grins, Natasha’s knowing look, Clint still rubbing his side from where she had elbowed him. Pietro fidgeting on the spot while Wanda tried not to look as though she was watching them quite as closely as she truly was, Bruce’s encouraging smile as he leant against the door frame and Thor positively _beaming_ at the sight of his brother and his friend standing together as one.

“You _knew?_ ” He asked, glancing one face to another, before turning back to Loki. “You knew that they knew?”

“I may have done.” Loki replied with a small smirk, shifting a little closer.

“I wonder if this is what it’s like standing at the altar.” The words left Steve’s mouth unbidden, a thought made real. He realised what he had said almost as soon as he had finished speaking, and Loki found the flush that travelled from his cheeks up to his ears to be entirely adorable. “That isn’t- I mean, I don’t- well I do but, well, what I mean is…um.” Loki let Steve trail off, the discomfort clear on his face and only exacerbated by the muffled laughter coming from the group of voyeurs at the other side of the room.

“I should imagine it is probably quite a lot like this, yes.” The flush didn’t leave, but at least Steve looked a little less like he might bolt for the door were it not entirely blocked. “If that is what you wish, my Captain, then I should happily agree. But only if it is what you wish.” Wanda was shooting furtive little glances at Natasha and Clint, and Loki could practically hear the trio conspiring together.

“Yeah, yeah, you may now kiss the bride. Can we get to the part with cake and presents now?” Loki glared at Stark, Steve just looked embarrassed and Natasha looked as though she might be about ready to punch him in the back of the head. Still, if it was a kiss they were waiting for, then a kiss they would get. Reaching up to cradle the back of Steve’s head, Loki dipped down to capture the Captain’s lips with his own. 

It was sweet, chaste by his usual standards, but it became clear fairly early on that Steve had other plans. A hot tongue pressed against his lips, asking for entrance which Loki willingly gave, tilting his head so that Steve might deepen the kiss further, groaning softly against Loki’s mouth. The Captain’s arms encircled his waist, holding Loki flush against his firm chest, heat bleeding through into Loki’s own cooler skin and making him tremble with barely-contained desire.

Their parting was too soon for Loki’s liking, remaining pressed together while their breathing steadied and Loki simply could not take his eyes off the man in his arms. Audience forgotten, they could have been absolutely anywhere as he let a small, soft smile transform his expression into one of relaxed happiness, resting their foreheads together.

The click of a shutter and bright flash brought them back to the present, and both turned in time to see Wanda lower her camera, looking somewhat pleased with herself. “It will look good in the album.” She muttered to Pietro, who simply nodded his agreement.

“Right,” Tony grinned, stepping over to the mini bar. “Now that we’re done with that, who wants a drink? Can’t play pin the hammer on Thor without a few drinks first.”


End file.
